


...I Gave You My Heart

by Ginger_puff



Series: In a library far, far away... [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Demon Guinea Fowl, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Librarian AU, Light Angst, Literary References, Mario Kart References, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_puff/pseuds/Ginger_puff
Summary: Even though this work will eventually be included as part of a series, I feel like it can be read by itself and hopefully has enough cuteness and fluff in it to make my recipient happy! Cheers to you for wishing for more fluff in this fandom/ship!
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: In a library far, far away... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581427
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: The Kylo|Ben x Poe Fanworks Exchange 2020





	...I Gave You My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darktensh17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktensh17/gifts).



> Even though this work will eventually be included as part of a series, I feel like it can be read by itself and hopefully has enough cuteness and fluff in it to make my recipient happy! Cheers to you for wishing for more fluff in this fandom/ship!

As far as stand-offs go, Poe is fairly confident he has this one in the bag. He’s got a significant height and weight advantage. Mobility’s a toss up, his leg is already throbbing, but he reckons if worse comes to worst he can just make a break for it and take half a pill and pass out in Finn’s cubicle later. 

That is, if he can in fact still hustle up the stairs with his toes frozen solid. 

Warm socks hadn’t been on the list of things Jessika had shipped over from base. He’s pretty sure 90% of her selection process was grabbing things at random since he now has to fly back with four neon t-shirts, two old cruise books, and a speedo with the tag still on from when he bought it drunk on leave in Guam. Finn, however, is a solid provider. The stiff almost-peacoat he gave Poe is a lifesaver and this morning he found a soft houndstooth scarf bulky enough to bury his nose in against the ridiculously cold northern winter. Not to mention the mittens Ben had given him. Lent him? It's not like he'll need them back in Djibouti once his convalescence is over, but if he's being honest there's no way Poe's giving them back unless Ben specifically asks for them. 

All of which currently serves the double purpose of keeping him from turning into a popsicle and protecting him from being pecked by the two feet tall hellspawn blocking the library doors. 

It’s tight polkadot feathers are a nightmare to look at for more than a few seconds and the only relief from the hideous wrinkles on its face are a pair of glassy black eyes that manage to appear both inhumanly vacant as well as vaguely threatening. For sure if he looks away for a second the thing will attack. Kicking is out, and Poe’s never punched a bird before, but damned if he’ll go down without a fight. 

Wait.

Can guinea fowl fly?

 _Shit_.

Whatever. 

Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for another patron to shamble up the steps and give the bird something it wants only slightly more than human blood-- flattery. And while the older woman coos appreciatively over it’s dizzying feathers, Poe slips inside. 

He makes no attempt at being civil towards the staff and patrons who greet him, storming into the children’s section and announcing his presence with a whined, “Helena tried to kill me again,” And instantly gags at the overwhelming smell of pure bleach. 

“Over here,” Finn calls. 

Poe pulls the scarf up to cover his nose entirely and follows Finn’s voice behind a row of bookcases into the pretend play area. 

“What's up buddy?”

The man looks haunted, on his hands and knees scrubbing at a bubbly wet circle in the carpet with a huge brush. “Poop,” Finn moans, “So much poop. And none of it was mine.”

Poe eyes the bleach bottle on the carpet and discolored streaks up the wall still dripping from another cleaner. “Uh, good?” Wait. “You mean?” He points to the wall.

“Yeah.”

“Like, a splatter situation, or-?”

Finn drops the brush and glares at Poe, “I don’t know, man. I can’t calculate the physical probability of toddler poop splattering that high. Maybe get Rey in here and she can private school mental math the trajectory for you.”

Poe raises his hands in surrender, but before he can apologize Finn sighs deeply and beats him to it.

“I’m sorry. It’s like, a thing. Rey always gets the vomit and I get the poop. It’s just-” He flails helplessly at the general mess. 

“So gross?” Poe finishes. Finn nods sadly, and Poe can’t help but laugh at how miserable he looks. “Well, it’s lucky for you that I did, in fact, survive your demon guard bird.” He lays his outerwear a safe distance away and picks up the roll of paper towels to wipe down the wall. 

Finn shakes his head. “I’m glad you made it, Dameron,” He says, just a touch too sincerely for comfort and Poe has to swallow against the sudden tightness in his throat. 

“I heard a new joke from Charles yesterday,” He says instead. Finn is seriously the best person in the whole world because he just goes back to scrubbing and says, “Oh yeah?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Pencil.”

“Pencil who?”

“Doesn't matter. It's pointless.” 

Finn pauses to consider. “Not bad,” he decides. 

“Right? I told him it was a good one.” 

The paint is coming up from the wall along with everything else, but Poe figures that’s worth the cost of cleanliness. They can always paint over it later. By the time the worst of it is taken care of they both have a headstart on what feels like an epic migraine. Finn sits back on his heels and sighs. “I’ll get the rest of this. Why don’t you take a break? Find a Michener and prop open the door or something,” He says, tossing Poe the key to disarm the fire exit door. As much as it rankles to be told to take a break from what is effectively light housework, Poe has to admit that his spine needs it. Also, “What’s a Michener?” 

“Ha,” Finn deadpans, already moving to scrub one of the smaller spots. 

Poe stares at him, but Finn offers no further guidance. “Oookay.” He drops his things at the children’s circulation desk and snoops but can’t find anything that looks remotely like a doorstop or whatever the hell a Michener is. So after he washes his hands - again - he goes to find Ben. 

At his cubicle Ben looks busy, focused on his laptop and an open notebook to the side. He’s taking notes without looking away from the screen and the little scrunched up concentrated look on his face is dorky as hell. 

Poe loves it. 

He clears his throat. “Hey Ben!” 

Ben startles, scratching a jagged line of ink over whatever he had been writing and when he finishes glaring at the pen like it had personally betrayed him he looks at Poe. His face goes a little red. 

Poe’s stomach plummets. “Sorry. I didn’t mean- Uh. I need help finding something? I’m not sure what exactly. I mean. Finn said-” The more word vomit that comes out of his mouth, the more Ben slowly turns his chair until Poe has the full attention of what must be the world’s most irritated librarian. 

He flounders. Literally, like mouth opening and closing, hands semi-flailing. Ben is staring. At him. There are no clues on his face other than the color in his cheeks and Poe would give just about anything for his brain to actually function again but the only coherent thing it comes up with is that his hair looks _so soft_.

“The thing you need?” Ben prompts.

Poe snaps to attention. Focuses on the two words he needs to say, not what his brain is traitorously thinking, “A Michener.”

Ben regards him for a moment, then does something even more perplexing. He smiles. Just a little one, but it’s enough to have Poe looking for the nearest thing to grab onto in case his knees give out entirely.

“You came to talk shop?” He asks. Quietly. He sounds almost hopeful. 

“Yep,” There’s no other possible answer when Ben looks this pleased. They can talk about whatever the hell Micheners are all day. Finn can prop open his own damn door. 

“I didn’t take you for a fan,” Ben continues, “but I should have anticipated. What with your connection.”

Poe nods too fast, definitely no longer uniform regulation curls bouncing. “That’s me. Big fan.”

“Which one is your favorite? I’m partial to _Tales of the South Pacific_ , but _Hawaii_ is certainly a popular one.” 

Poe opens his mouth and saints above he has no idea what is about to come out of it because Ben is saying words but none of them make sense in relation to a thing used to prop open doors and _somebody please help_ \- 

Ben holds up a finger. “Let me guess,” He says, humor brightening his eyes, “you like _Bridges at Toko-Ri_. Did you read it before or after you joined the service?” 

The war Poe wages within himself is fierce. It is also very brief. “Actually, I don’t really know what you’re talking about? I just came to see if you had one I could borrow for a little while.”

Ben frowns. “You dont-” And his face softens. “Of course,” He says, and immediately swivels to take something out of his desk drawer. “I should not have assumed. I apologize.” What he hands Poe is a book about the size of the dictionary, well worn and obviously something that belongs to Ben, not the library.

“Are you sure?” Poe asks, daunted by both the physical weight of the thing and the offer itself. 

Ben looks ready to say something ridiculously obvious like ‘I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t want you to have it’ so Poe plows right over that with a blinding smile and a quick, “Thanks man. I’ll get it back to you in a few hours.” He tucks the book under an arm and clasps Ben’s shoulder in gratitude. His very nicely defined shoulder. Ben’s cheeks color again and Poe snatches his hand away, unaccountably nervous.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ben clears his throat, “And you can borrow it for however long you want. I certainly don’t have the time to re-read it.” 

“It’s alright. We won’t need it that long.” 

Ben frowns. “We?”

“Yeah. Finn asked me to find one to prop the door open. The bleach smell is pretty strong. I think he may have actually passed out by now.” The joke lands lame, but not enough so to account for Ben staring at him literally open-mouthed.

“Ben? Don’t worry! I’m not going to use your book. I’ll find something else.”

Nothing.

Tentatively, Poe reaches out and closes Ben’s mouth with a finger.

Poe would rather go ten rounds naked with an armed Helena than bear another second under the incredulous glare leveled at him. 

So Lieutenant Poe Dameron, pilot, US Navy, flees.

Later, after unceremoniously dropping a brick at Finn’s feet and earning a startled, “Close enough,” Poe stretches out in the dark space under Finn’s desk and reads…

_**“I wish I could tell you about the South Pacific. The way it actually was. The endless ocean. The infinite specks of coral we called islands. Coconut palms nodding gracefully toward the ocean. Reefs upon which waves broke into spray, and inner lagoons, lovely beyond description. I wish I could tell you about the sweating jungle, the full moon rising behind the volcanoes, and the waiting. The waiting. The timeless, repetitive waiting.”** _

-

“I figured that if you’re going to basically live here now we should make it official.”

Poe takes the small name badge suspended from a black lanyard Rey holds out to him with a laugh. “Rey, how touching. Nine out of ten, this is the second best adoption of my life.” 

She rolls her eyes, slings an arm around his neck, and kisses the non-prickly part of his cheek - and isn’t not having to shave one of the best silver linings _ever_. 

Poe doesn’t have a sister that he’s aware of. None of the other females he’s met even approach the zip code of the concept, Jessika being maybe the one exception but that’s more like a ride or die soulmate than a sibling. But watching her twirl away to wreak who-knows-what havoc on the teen Smash Bros ‘brawl’ upstairs, he reckons this must be what it feels like. 

Especially when he actually reads the laminated card. ‘Poe Dameron: Not very helpful, but tries super hard'.

He chokes on the laugh bubbling out of his throat because the humor of it is chased by a truthfulness so big it can’t quite fit, gets lodged in his chest and _squeezes_. The same constricting feeling of not being able to put into words why he sleeps almost all day at Finn's apartment and lies awake all night. Why he throws up until he's wrung out and empty. How the stillness and silence when Finn's gone overwhelms rational and safe thought to the extent that even scrubbing bodily fluids out of carpet older than he is is better than staying in that empty space with only himself for company. What it feels like to have the pride of the two most important people in the world and every ambition since childhood culminating in an entire career that's now on the chopping block. All because Poe Dameron always, always _tries so hard_. 

-

With Rey away at lunch and Finn preparing for a meeting, there’s not much else to do except go for a nap at Finn's cubicle. At this point there’s probably legal grounds for co-ownership, but luckily Finn almost never actually uses the space. It’s nice to have somewhere to go to just be by himself. As much as he enjoys and misses the camaraderie of a barracks, or crammed shipboard berthing and ready rooms, the only other place that ever truly feels like his own is the cockpit. And that’s. Well. Best not to think about that right now. 

Distracted as he is, Poe barely registers the voice as he definitely does not limp through the maze of cubicles. He stops. Backtracks.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, what are you doing?” Ben says, observing him from the conference table. 

“Nothing!” Poe replies, a little too quickly. The uncomfortable weight of guilt stirs in his gut. Their misunderstanding the other day has been sitting poorly with him. 

Ben squints, dubious. “Do you have to do nothing _here_?” 

Poe considers, then changes course to approach the table. “Yep.” 

Someone like Ben wouldn't do anything as undignified as rolling his gorgeous eyes, but he does treat Poe to a stern silence. 

“What are you doing?” Poe asks as he tries not to make it too obvious that the wall is the primary thing holding him upright. 

“Preparing for storytime,” He says, gesturing to the cardboard, candies, and scrapbook paper covering the table. 

“Oh.” Now that he’s properly looking, some of the cardboard squares have what look like windows and doors cut out. Ben is holding a sizable glue gun, probably to assemble the gingerbread houses. Cardboard houses? Decorations look cute though. Not as tasty as a real gingerbread house, but this looks simpler. Poe watches Ben's hand squeeze a line of glue along the ridge of the cardboard not-gingerbread house.

Ben clears his throat, drawing Poe’s attention to his face. He doesn’t look so snitty anymore, just guarded. “Do you want to help?” He says carefully, like he’s offering an olive branch and isn’t sure Poe won’t smack him in the face with it.

“Heck yes!” Poe pushes off the wall and uses the momentum to reach a chair, “How are you doing?”

Ben hums questioningly, focused on the hot glue gun and presumably not burning his yummy hands.

“Since the breakup.”

Ben pauses, glue pools on the cardboard until Ben answers, “I’ve had a lot to distract me.” 

It’s a deflection, but Poe doesn't push. 

“How is your ex is handling it. Armitage?” 

The surprise is clear on Ben’s face. “He's, he's doing alright. I saw him yesterday. He's upset, but…” 

Poe nods. “But it sucks. He'll be alright,” he assures, offering a smile, “You both will.” 

Ben, carefully sets down the glue gun. “Thank you. No one has asked about how he's doing.” He struggles, for words, for a way to express how you can still care about someone even after they’ve taken the best parts of you and hurt them. That is a thing Poe _gets_. 

“You were together for years, of course you're still close. He matters to you.” 

“Yes, still.” Ben smiles gratefully. It’s stunning. 

Poe blindly reaches for a stack of cardboard to cut, anything to cover the blush creeping up his neck. After a moment, Ben slides a peppermint across the table to him. So naturally Poe unwraps it and throws the wrapper at Ben’s unfairly broad chest. 

-

Bless all the saints that Jess isn’t here to witness him getting schooled in Mario Kart by a 10 year old. 

“These controls are so tiny,” He whines. His competitor is unsympathetic. 

“You’re just old,” Dawson quips with the surety of youth. 

Before Poe can launch into all the reasons that he is not, in fact, ‘old’, someone snorts behind them. Poe turns in his chair expecting to see Rey, but it’s Ben tidying up from the story time group this morning. He’s carrying papers and a handful of crayons back to the cupboard like he didn’t just laugh at some infant maligning him. 

The nerve.

“Let’s see you do better, Solo.” 

Ben turns his back on Poe, sorting through the papers and returning the ones not colored onto the shelf. “I’m working, Poe.”

Poe turns to address Dawson, “Sounds like loser talk to me. Not even gonna try.” 

“I don’t get paid to play video games.”

“You don’t get paid to watch cat videos on your laptop, and yet-”

“On my breaks,” Ben interrupts.

“Then take a break.”

Ben sighs for an impressive eight seconds. “Fine,” He relents. 

Poe turns to high five Dawson, but the kid had left. His controller is on the seat and Poe hands it to Ben. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Endless work and a mortgage.”

“Oh my god you’re so _old_.” 

The countdown starts and Poe’s selective competitiveness doesn’t really care about video games, but when his King Boo takes second place and Dry Bones is at the bottom of the pack he kind of notices this fight isn't fair. Poe leans over and tilts his controller towards Ben, “This one’s the accelerator.”

“I'm aware.” 

Poe frowns. 

“I’m obeying the rules of the road,” Ben explains serenely.

“You don't have to. It's Mario not DMV Simulator,” Poe says. But wait. Is that a barely there curve of a smile on this smug bastard’s face? Poe lights up. “You're joking! This is you making a joke. I didn't know you could do that. Hey Rey!” He hollers. 

“This is a library, Poe,” Ben chides, but there's humor in his voice and Poe feels that same slamming-into-you pull of being shot off the cat at zero to 170mph in two seconds at the sound of Ben's full laughter. Man, he’s hooked. 

-

It was Rey’s idea to walk them home. Poe stands under the streetlight on the bike path behind Finn's block of apartments huddled into his jacket and scarf. Finn and Rey are down in the creek being idiots, seeing who can balance on the ice slicked rocks the longest. Poe watches them, eyes watering in the cold and thinking about who will be hobbling back with a twisted ankle and how much of Finn's good bourbon he can sneak into the hot chocolate he's going to make the first thing they get inside and thawed. He already feels exhausted at the prospect of another restless night and fails to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn.

Ben watches with him, pale skin a frosty blue in the moonlight. There's snow catching in his hair. He’s the most beautiful person Poe has ever seen in real life. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice soft and concerned. It makes Poe feel impossibly warmer. 

“Yeah, but if they take much longer I'm going to start turning into a Poepcicle.” 

Ben stares at him. “No.” 

“What?” 

“That was awful.” 

He grins, “If by awful you mean so terrible it was actually perfect then yeah, it was.”

“You're-” Ben stops himself. Shadows move across his pale throat as he swallows. Finally, he looks away. 

“I'm what?” Poe challenges. 

Ben looks back as Poe licks his dry lips. His eyes are dark and intent. A little bit dangerous. And Poe knows why this is unwise, knows the complicated emotions that surround the end of a serious relationship. He knows it’s not fair to either of them to give in to the promise of 'something' in Ben's gaze. 

But he does it anyways.

The second his right foot leaves the ground his vision whites out. The particular agony of damaged nerves shoots up his leg through his lower spine and seizes his lungs. Poe gasps in cold air that instantly dries out his throat. His legs buckle and his stomach lurches as he falls. Not far. Strong arms catch him painfully tight and lower him to the ground. Poe trembles blindly against Ben’s chest. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Poe pants through gritted teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut. Focuses on breathing through it. His hands are tingly-numb and undoubtedly shaking, but he tries anyways to knead at his thigh. Ben releases him enough to maneuver and sits next to him, a steady warmth at his side even though the concrete has already frozen Poe’s butt. He suddenly feels hands covering his own. 

“Can I…?” 

Poe cracks a weary eye open. Ben looks miserable. Helpless. Worried. Poe sighs deeply, “Knock yourself out.” 

Ben shifts closer to get a better angle to work around Poe’s knee, his thigh. He's not gentle, but this hurt is the good kind. Poe leans into Ben's space and rests his sweaty forehead on his shoulder. Ben freezes for just a second, then continues. 

When the worst of it passes, he pats Ben's arm. “Thanks.” 

Ben doesn't seem to know what to say, and to be fair, Poe doesn’t either. Eventually he settles on offering Poe a hand up. 

The last thing on earth Poe wants to do is admit how much that episode took out of him. He waves the offer away, “I got it.” Poe licks his lips again and uses his fingers to whistle sharply. “Finn!” He calls, making grabby hands. 

Finn helps Rey back to the bank and they trot up to the path. “You good, Dameron?” Finn asks lightly, but he looks rattled. 

“Why don't you put all those squats to use and give me a lift?” 

Finn looks from Poe to Ben and back. “Sure thing, buddy,” And without hesitation lifts Poe onto his back. 

Ben doesn’t speak a single word the rest of the night.

-

Watching Ben do storytime is really something else. He’s all energy and drama and a bit of juvenile sweetness. It’s adorable. 

And helpfully distracting. 

Except for when he strums the ukulele with his long fingers and Poe remembers how warm those same fingers had been through the denim of his jeans. Or when the hanging silence when he turns a page promises a continuation that feels too much like the hopeful almost-something that had briefly passed between them. But instead of thinking about what it would be like to be kissed by those soft when Ben licks them in the middle of a song, Poe thinks about nerve damage. He thinks about malfunctions and bailing too early. He thinks about terminal velocity and legs together, knees bent, brace. About crashes. About how many hydrocodone he has left and what a relief it was to, at least for a few days, think about nothing at all. 

Ben spots him, covering a blink-and-you-miss-it flash of concern with a cough. Poe waves from the dingy maroon wingback chair he's sunken into. 

Afterwards, when most of the children had finished the craft and coloring page and run off to find books or play, he leverages himself up and takes a seat at one of the shorter kid tables. Ben joins him without a word, watching as Poe slides a page to himself and selects a crayon. 

“I didn't know you played ukulele.” Poe says. “It looks hilariously tiny compared to you.” 

Ben seems to laugh despite himself. Poe tries again.

“The craft went well.”

“I had good help,” Ben finally says. Meaningfully, like he doesn’t know how to say the things he really wants to. So Poe does instead. He tells Ben about the training accident. About the surgeries. That if the evaluation doesn't go well he'll be medically retired. That he’s not sure the rest of it is worth it if he can’t fly. About the depression and anxiety and fear. Ben listens to all of it, still as a statue while Poe colors, and when he’s run out of shit to say it feels like Ben should be cleaning up or something. Leaving. But he doesn't move and Poe is content for once in the silence. 

After a while, Ben slides the exact green Poe needs across the table and says, “Want to form an alliance and destroy Finn and Rey in Mario Party?” 

Poe grins, “Absolutely I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
